Spider's Web
by DecemberRain101
Summary: Remember when Harley turned on the phone while sleeping with Nava? Some plot, smut, lots of feels. Hope you enjoy! COMPLETED. Canon-divergent, ENDING #1. Please see story Damage for ENDING #2 (currently being updated). Both have OC.
1. Spiderweb

He did not know when it changed or how...he simply did not pay it enough attention until the circumstances demanded it. Looking back, Chen was right-when he grabbed Her hand at the marina he surprised himself but held on. Even though his brain was already screaming to let go of her burning fingers, he held on to finish the job. And, subsequently, with every day's passing his attraction grew. During the day he "handled" her as his job demanded and at night...at night he dreamt of her wild hair caressing his shoulder, her lips trembling over his and the gentle undulating movements of her body...So seeing her here tonight already hurt.

She hurt, too. Tonight, she was tired and sick, sick of his bullshit and overbearing presence that stifled her in a cocoon of righteousness and held her like a fly on a web. Tonight, she wanted to escape from his penetrating stares and close the door in his face. So she did just that. And it's not like she wanted James in particular. She wanted comfort, rest and a male body around her, her insulation from current events. She found some of that but also anger at self for feeling this way, for going to the wrong person because she was too proud to go to the right.

She felt angry, confused, her grip on sanity slowly slipping away. How was it, she wondered, that all it took was one person to upset the delicate balance that was her life? Why, why was it so easy for him to simply come and f..ck it all up? Drag to light all the things that were dark? Him, with his sharply cut jaw and no less sharply cut suit. Him, with the pale blue eyes she was constantly stumbling into? She used to think that his type was bland, weak, and, oh, so expendable. Now, she was shocked, torn between the pull of his maleness and what his job was doing to her. That's why earlier at the restaurant she desperately fought to disengage, to throw his intrusion in his face. She pulled back, she needed more time to assess what was happening. He would not let her go. She still resisted being fairly sure it would infuriate him. He acted like she expected. He moved faster than time allowed and she felt fear breathe down her neck. She was playing with fire in a cold man. At the end, blood boiling, she let the need for payback and her own impatience overtake her. She turned on the phone connecting light to the dark. As Nava's hands went predictably over her body she ended up on the kitchen table...

Revenge expectedly brought his friend Guilt. But it was too late to stop this, to leave, for the idiocy would be palpable on all sides. So she tried to stifle her voice, to prevent it from traveling. More disturbingly, she couldn't let go of Stahl's face, it kept intruding under her closed eyelids. She was beginning to realize that she wanted to figure out this strange wicked man. She imagined his eyes register surprise then quickly go steel. He killed the sound and tossed the burner on the back seat. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to think of another matter...

Three hours later, she emerged, in all her just-fucked glory, her hair a halo in the street lights. She wasn't surprised to find him still there. He was leaning against his car, waiting for the click of her heels to get closer. Walking up, she felt decisive but, somehow dirty, still enveloped in another's scent. Stahl met her with a cold and motionless stare, his face betraying nothing. She did not know that anger was already seeping through his bones, boiling his flesh. He did not know she cried later that night as she descended to hell. She did not know he was already there...


	2. Singed Air

Fire tore through his soul incinerating all that was beautiful. Flames that burned through him every single night have come again. Sometimes they spared X as he desperately wished but more often than not he found himself locked outside as if stuck in concrete, powerless to save her from screaming. Julia, Julia...she did not fully know what she took from him. And Woz...well, the old hyena was even more clueless. And those darn comments about his place? So what if it looked and felt like a cold cardboard box? He'd rather prefer it be a coffin.

X, Y, Z. What a terrible mess all this was and the moment he allowed himself a sliver of weakness his anger bit him in the ass. He should have known better, known that Julia would awaken her acolytes and bite back like a rabid bitch.

He needed air. He remembered feeling something when he first saw her at the hotel. Her carefree wildness suited him, inviting to soothe his senses. But he was angry, too angry to feel anything but aggression, too angry not to inflict pain. Grief had many faces-some people cried, some laughed, others shut down. Him? His insides were singed and his heart nonexistent.

Now he looked at her warm caramel skin and all he wanted to do was pound himself into it, over and over again. He was pleased they ended up here. Smirking, he ran the back of his hand up inside one thigh and down the other. She averted her eyes, her chest heaving. That's when he lost it. Making quick work of her dress and his tie he made her destroy him. And after...after, he took his time f...ing her in his bed, long and deep, until he again became human...

When it was over, a fraction of sanity barely left in him, he saw her downstairs and paid for the cab. His powerful form was backlit by the building and Harlee could not tear her eyes away. She chose the wrong time to admire. A fuzzy moth brushed at her collarbone and she jumped, taking in a sharp breath. He whipped around and was upon her in three easy steps, voice rising in warning:

"Harlee... You shouldn't have come here".


	3. A Broken Frame

She backed away, straight into the ironwork fence. Wayward branches got in her face as Stahl's presence became overwhelming. He leaned in close and grabbed the rails. His eyes lanced into her with menace. His lips, however, did not cooperate. He tried to open them but nothing came out. He was debating whether to stop or go on. The heavy air between them hung humid and sickly sweet, typical New York summer. His mercy won out. As fingers smoothed over her ribs a small heart drew itself on white silk. Her pupils, already enormous, blew up and her breath stilled. "Harlee...I have _nothing_ here" he whispered as he touched a fingertip to her chest. He did not know why he chose this particular revelation tonight. Albeit angry, he did not want to hurt her. Perhaps he hoped for forgiveness or a way out. And she gave it to him. Exploding with hatred she tore at his arms and spit on the asphalt instead of his face. "What the hell, Stahl? _Don't you ever touch me_ ", she hissed and pushed him away. He felt a hole open up in his stomach and swallow him in. He did not watch her go but leaned back on the fence where she was just standing and stared up at the sky. _Don't look for help there, Robert. The Gods shun you, they have been for a while._


	4. Walk The Wire

A few days passed. She has not heard from him or "bumped" into him at either the coffee shop. He didn't visit the book store, either. "I could get used to this", she dared to think quietly. Christina was doing well in school, Woz was off doing no one knew what and the precinct was quiet. At night she relaxed, thanking God for much-needed peace.

That night she looked in the mirror and mused, "I need a damn haircut". She quietly smiled at the thought. She has not attended to things like that in a while. She grabbed a comb and ran it through her wet hair, water flowing in rivulets. She liked what she saw, her beautiful face and her luscious sweet body and felt quite fortunate to have both.

A loud scrape of a chair interrupted her thoughts. "Christina?". Her snaking hair still dripping along, she came to the kitchen and saw The Tie there. "Shit", went through her mind.

"You could have knocked", she said out loud leaning against the wall.

"I'm full of surprises, don't you think, Harlee? But so are you".

The way he uttered her name, with such base contempt, made her wish her robe were twice as long. He looked unbalanced, both tie and hair loose and askew. She looked at him, waiting.

"I fff..found your wire", he stammered and got up.

"Why bedroom, Harlee?", he advanced further. "Why not the living room? How could you possibly not know what you would find. It is _my bed_ , Harlee, for christ's sake. So? Did you enjoy it? How many times did you watch? Did you want it? And do you possibly know what you cost me today?". She tried to keep quiet.

"I don't do well in a corner, Harlee. Look at me, look at me when I am talking to you!".

"If that's called "talking"...

He interrupted,

"Just be glad I have some control".


	5. Not a Matter of Fact

She sighed and knocked. She had to do it. Stahl was waiting for her but did not come right away. Then, sliding the door open, he looked down. Huge almond eyes and fluffy hair. She looked like crap and it made her seem vulnerable. He caught himself on a wisp of a tender thought...Wait! Wait! a voice in his head said. That's not what you want or are ready for. Is this some kind of a joke? Long forgotten feelings like tenderness and love were no longer in his vocabulary.

Stepping aside, he invited her in. His hair was mussed, face damp and gleaming in dusky blue light. A lone lamp was lit in a corner. "He has been sleeping", she thought spotting his rumpled pants and shirt. His eyes seemed calm, voice quiet. He had some time to think since the last time he saw her. He let himself simmer down and look at things logically. What did he secretly hope to accomplish? Her running to him after he made her life a living hell? After countless uninvited encounters, after bothering and suffocating her in the name of his work? Her life was ripping to shreds and he was wielding the dagger.

He gestured towards the living room. She poured herself a glass of water if only to stop her hands and her mouth from shaking. He was looking at her, waiting. They stood like this for neither knew how long. He wanted to be nice but somehow could not. Instead, he settled for matter-of-fact and waited further.

"Come", she woke him up from his reverie.

"What?", he replied.

She came over, closer, looking him straight in the eye.

"Help me".

"Help you with what?"

"Save my friends".

"Harlee, you know that's not possible".

"Then make it possible! I know you can. You told me you would protect me. So do it for me".

"And why would I do that? You are no longer my asset".

She frowned in thought.

"Take off your shirt". He did not move.

"Take off your shirt or I will rip it off you", she whispered. Taken aback, he complied but only half-way.

Harlee came very close.

"You think you are the only one suffering, Stahl? Look around. The bodies are piling up. How long is this going to go on? I know you got hurt and I am so sorry but I can't erase that video now". She moved an inch closer, their bodies arm length apart.

"So what would it take for you to help me? This?", and she ran a finger down his bare chest. "Or this?" and she almost kissed his shoulder. "Or this?", and she let her hair and breath caress his neck...His breath deepened and he felt himself grow at so little of "this". "How pathetic", he thought. She was no fool, either. She grabbed her bag and her keys and made a hasty retreat. In truth, he terrified her to no end.

"Jesus", he thought, "What was that?


	6. The Cat's Meow

She sat quietly, lazily ensconced in the corner chair. She scanned the room. The accommodations were better than she expected, kudos to Baker. The deep velvet night has long fallen outside and the quietude finally reached here. The soft shades sang stillness, ever obliging. She allowed herself to take a breath. "Overnight", the young doc threw at them earlier. Stahl ground his jaw as she scowled, "Lovely!". Now she welcomed the opportunity to rest. She was yet to tease out what tonight's craziness cost them all but she did not want to start that just yet. Christina was safely at home and that's all that really mattered. So she hit a pause button on her brain and sat back. TV and wings beat the night vigils every time but she would take what she could. She pressed the space between her eyebrows with her fingers and hung her head.

God, it was dark in here! What happened to the usual underbed lights? She did not want to end up conking out just yet so she decided to watch him. In the white sliver of hallway light she could just make out his form, his broad shoulders, torso, long legs. He seemed peaceful. His chest rose and fell with unhurried ease and she was somewhat relieved. His face did not show any marks of what passed, although the Light of the morning may think otherwise. She smiled faintly as her eyes adjusted. Strangely, he reminded her of a certain cat she once met at a shelter. Cristina was the one looking for a pet but Harlee still felt the need to have some say in the matter. The thing was cream colored with straw masquerading as fur. She never got to touch it because it bounded back into the cubicle as soon as it was taken out.

This cat was much bigger, meaner, and annoyingly determined to stay. He has proven this repeatedly, his endgame a mystery to her. At least he was quiet now. What a blessing! A grudging Thanks No Thanks to Woz...

His blond hair fell over his forehead in certain surprise and she itched to brush it back. His new boyish face bothered her.

Carefully, she moved the chair over to his bed. Her eyes tracked down to his mouth and she audibly sighed. She realized his habit of sucking in his lower lip both irritated and beckoned her. That's when things got interesting for them both, she surmised. She blinked at the pale stern lips relaxed slightly in sleep and wondered if they were soft, wondered what they would taste like, what she would feel if she touched them: Wanting, Disgust or, worst of all, Nothing.

When yellow pink dawn tickled her back she woke up with a start. Her head on his bedsheets and his slitted eyes boring through her. He was frowning. Then, quickly, a smooth curtain fell. "Next time, you know, I can willingly share...", he rasped pointing to the bed. Her eyebrows jumped up. Suddenly, hospital coffee seemed a great treat and she walked away, shutting him in with the Silence.


	7. Poison

[Happens after Stahl kills Lanklater]

"Can you just cut the bullshit for once and be normal?" He asked himself as he let her into the apartment. Harlee stormed through to the living room and plopped on the couch. "How about that drink you promised?". Stahl's forehead wrinkled. "You are kidding? Don't tell me you got nothing?" She closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. She heard a cabinet open and a rich splash of liquid. A dark glass offered itself to her. "What the hell is that? Poison?" "Port. Centuries old tradition for damsels in distress". She bristled but took the glass anyway. "I've never seen you drink", she noted and regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth. How was she supposed to know? It's not like she watched him all day. Well...he did not have to know this but she gave him an opening. Amazingly, he did not take it. Instead he opened the fridge to grab a bottle of whiskey and lowered himself next to her. "Not enough space for you, Master?", she mocked him, such a tease. He flung her an incredulous look. "It's my house, Harlee, but fine, anything for the queen" and he sat on the floor, his back to the couch. They sat like that for some time, TV sparking the darkness. The sweet liquid tasted rich, filling and tricking her mouth. Relief began to flood inside of her and shrugged off her jacket. "Do you want to sleep?", he quietly asked. She coughed "Are you insane, Stahl, what makes you think..." "I am not offering you my bed, Harlee", he interrupted. "I just asked if you wanted to sleep here or do you want me to take you back home?". The drink and the day were starting to get to her. She audibly sighed, "Fine, just leave me alone". "Well, I am glad I can please you, your highness", he bowed theatrically but his eyes did not smile. He left the room and returned a few minutes later tossing something at her. His clothes-a gray t-shirt and sweatpants. "Don't you own any other color?". She rolled her eyes at him but took them anyway. "Point the way.".

She quietly turned the lock from the inside even though the gesture seemed so futile. If Stahl wanted, the door would not stand a chance. And she started to think that he wanted. The thought slightly excited her. She was hoping, however, and even believed that such lack of control would not be at play here. She turned on the water. "This is heaven". It caressed and loved her skin, gently sluicing around in warmth and sweetness. Vapors rose. She closed her eyes and let herself dream.


	8. An Impossible Dream

Back in the living room, Stahl was back on the couch, a pillow and blanket now next to him. He wanted to stay but decided against it. "Goodnight", he said at the door. "You too", he heard her quietly whisper. He imagined her brushing her hair, water dripping onto his shirt, her bare thighs and her shins. The thought made him ache in his groin and he found the feeling uncomfortable. He flung himself onto his bed, lips frowning slightly. She was here, with him, in his space... Alive and not fully unwilling. He turned on his side and tried to sink into sleep.

But, still, she was yet to call him by name...

 _"Robert"._ He felt the mattress shift under him and his mouth went dry. He stayed still, listening. Her gaze was soft on his back. His logical brain fought for control: "Do I want her to do this? Now? Why scream at me earlier, throw insults in my face?" He let go of his lip and breathed "Harlee...". She stilled. How did he know how to get to her quickly, both frighten and tempt her? She knew the gifts of his job. She sat, too embarrassed to answer. She felt him get up and a softness descended on her. "Stay here, Harlee".

It's not the first time she thought of going to him, of giving herself over to his naked abyss. It wouldn't have been foreign to her. The last time she loved someone, it did not turn out too well. "Love, Harlee? Love?", she caught herself thinking.

He returned with a glass. "I thought you could use this..." She took it, her damn hand shaking, careful not to touch. The glass still held warmth. He turned around to go. She could not and didn't want to let him. "Don't you leave me", she thought. The man had incredible senses! He dropped to the floor with a sigh. "Harlee", he knelt by the bed. "What in hell is the matter with you? You keep turning cold and then hot, keep telling me not to see you, yet you are here..." he pushed his hands into the bed. She felt both confused and divine, her breath trapped somewhere underneath reason. His hands tightened in bedsheets. "Don't do that. Don't do that, Harlee, if you don't mean it. It's no longer a game, at least not for me". She couldn't stand it and, sinning, she breathed out "Touch me..." She felt him lean in and claim her back with his chest, no hands. His skin faintly smelled of whiskey, sweat and purely Stahl. She loved it and kept breathing in...She found his hands and allowed him to hug her. He smiled in relief as Silence and Stillness descended and the World let them be.


	9. RS

She woke up cold, wet sheets sticking to her skin. His side of the bed was empty. She peeled off his clothes and changed, then made her way to the kitchen. She opened the fridge to get a cold drink. Her eyes fell on an unopened bottle of whiskey and wait, what? Bottle of grape juice? A neat note and key rubber banded around it's neck. "Wow, Harlee. You win the prize for stupid. Let yourself out. R.S."


	10. Past Anew

Of late, she was beginning to feel unsure, as if she was standing on ice in the middle of summer. And it was beginning to melt, no surprise there. What was surprising was that she could not tell where it cracked first, everything was so interconnected, when one thing could seemingly affect ten others. So James was gone and Stahl remained and not necessarily in that order. She was still thinking about that night and kept asking herself "How the hell did I let that happen?". What made it worse was the fact that she could not remember what happened exactly. Everything was so cloudy. But she certainly felt the cold leaving his apartment that morning, as well as feeling pretty disgusted and pissed. And humiliated. Now that really hurt her pride. She threw the key into his mailbox and swore not to ever come back.

It was helping that she hasn't seen him for at least a week, just enough time to regain her composure. Now she was back, cracks all smoothed over, at least on the outside. And as far as inside was concerned, she thought she knew how to hide her emotions when necessary.

So she carried the crap in herself and, of course, the nightmares came forward. She thought that the times she got them were almost over and she did experience long periods of their inactivity . Some of her pain was acquired so long ago that, by right, she could let go and move forward. Pain that was never to be forgotten, of course, but no longer at the forefront of her mind. She has chosen a new path and was not sorry.

So you see, dear reader, a great deal of her personal strength came from those past times when she learned that the world did not owe her anything special. More than that, it presented her with undeserved hurt and, moreover, guilt. But she was strong now and able to withstand the memories without going under. At times, Thomas, Miguel's older brother entered her thoughts causing a sad smile to appear. She loved him at some point, she was sure, but if he really loved her back then she no longer knew. They met in middle school. She was already friends with Miguel and was quite surprised at the arrival of Thomas. Miguel had never mentioned that he had a brother before, and she knew Miguel quite well. So she was surprised one day to see a tall fair-skinned and green-eyed boy coming out of Miguel's house. That day Harlee and Miguel were sitting outside on the stairs, stereo blaring. The boy looked and frowned at them and went on his way. She turned to Miguel with questioning eyes and he answered, "That's my brother". "Your brother?", she said. "are you kidding me, man?". Miguel winced and said, "Well, it's not something we like to discuss at my house. I did hear once that Dad had a fling with this woman while he was in the service. I"ve never seen her, only in pictures. She was blond and pretty but I hated her guts. Mom cried when she found out. She wanted to leave but she could not go, she did not have many friends or any money and her dad and ma were still in Puerto Rico. And she already had me. So she stayed and father promised to "mend his ways". I don't know if he ever did". Miguel smiled viciously. "So now we got this crap. I heard his mother died in some horrible accident and he wanted to meet his father. It's freaking weird". Harlee was really struggling not to let her jaw hit the floor. It's true, this was really weird but he next thing she knew, Miguel jumped up and decided to go play ball and she came along as usual. They had a good time that night, their friends at the park with Charlee the German shepherd and Buster the bulldog. She loved those dogs, they were so smart and friendly, always ready to play. Thomas did not enter her thoughts until the next morning when he climbed up on the bus right after them. He was two years older...

Harlee's thoughts made a u-turn and she sighed at remembering her most recent loss. James was gone. Well, not really gone but gone from her. She did not expect it to end so quickly. It was going so well, he was smart and attractive and good in bed. She felt that, perhaps, they had potential. She remembered his kindness and warmth, remembered how comforted she felt when she was close to him, something she hasn't felt for so long. And then this horrible thing with Caroline happened. Harlee did not know for sure but it seemed that James knew that she was somehow involved and he told her to get the hell out. "Damn it", she thought. One thing, one good thing she had in addition to her most prized being in the world, Cristina, and the job that she loved was James. She remembered how he looked at her that day, this huge powerful guy, his eyes shining with tears. He did not stop her in the moments it took her to reach the door. Hurt, disappointment and sadness washed over her and she left, knowing there was no going back. Her safety net was gradually disappearing. She started to question her life and her being, her friends and her crew, the validity of those relationships. All of a sudden there was just too much light cast on the jagged edges, things she had chosen to ignore. And it was only getting worse-Tessa was cranky and oppositional, Woz increasingly paranoid and unpredictable, still holding a grudge, and James, James was gone. And the irony was that an unwelcome thing remained-Stahl. And she liked him as much as she liked sand paper, damn thorn in her side!


	11. Thomas and Harlee

**Warning: almost non-con, almost rape. Please be careful and don't read if this is a trigger.**

Fast forward to high school. For two years they threw sideways glances at each other and hid their thoughts . They ran in different crowds but were nonetheless quite aware of each other's existence. To her, he was like a strange exhibit, a paradox-a Latino boy who seemingly had no idea what that meant and thus did not act like one, too straight-laced and cold. To him, from afar, she was bright and exotic, pulsing with life. He was afraid to get close. It did not help that Miguel was his brother and thus had her around a lot. Tom never felt comfortable when she came over-he would leave the room asap. She figured he was antisocial, stuck up.

It was only a matter of time before their paths collided. Literally.

Harlee was already late, in a rush. Not being careful, she rounded a corner and smacked into a living wall. "Shit! ", books flew everywhere and she knew she was going to get it from coach. Slightly dazed, she crouched down to pick up her things and was taken aback when her gaze fell on long pale fingers holding out her book. Harlee felt her skin crawl and got up, frowning. "Thank you", she mumbled avoiding any eye contact and got the hell out of there as fast as she could.

Three days later.

"Harlee, this is your new partner!", coach bellowed and she whipped around. Hardwood dance floor usually held her tight but now she felt unsteady all of a sudden. Speechless, she stared at Tomas towering over her while coach blabbered on. She had no idea he danced, and, apparently, was good enough to partner with her. So she just stared. His mind went blank, too. He knew in advance whom he was meeting tonight but reality struck him stupid-she was as brilliant as the sun.

He'd never asked Miguel about her, things being already awkward at home, and now he wished he knew something of substance about her, then perhaps, he wouldn't have panicked so much.

And then it began, a grueling process of getting to work with each other. They had good days and bad ones. She was quite willfull, not entirely willing to take his lead. He kept inwardly rolling his eyes but on the surface tried to be as patient as his 17 yo self would allow. He did have an urge sometimes to let her butt hit the floor but he would never allow himself to do that. That was simply not a gentlemanly thing to do.

"Connection, connection! Pay attention!", yelled the coach. "Use that floor! Don't pull him! Jesus!". They tried and tried, and then tried some more until his shirt was wet through and through and her knees were bruised.

"Ok, that's enough, guys. Go home".

He walked her home silently. By then the streets had grown quiet and magnolia lanterns swung in the breeze.

"Good night", she said not looking at him and walked up to her door.

"Good night", he said as she disappeared into the darkness. Neither noticed Miguel smoking on his front steps.

Walking home, Tom kept thinking about what he was feeling when Harlee was close. He's had his share of partners and knew how to handle a body in an effort of being the best on the floor. His passion looked striking but it was nothing romantic- he was that good at theatrics. But with Harlee he began to feel all the things he should not have been feeling. Desperately, he wanted to hold her and feel her but not in the studio. He wanted to mess up her tight bun and run his fingers through the abundance of her hair. He wanted to touch her where no one else could. He felt ashamed at his urges but they grew stronger nonetheless. Sometimes, he gripped her hand so tightly that her eyes widened and he had to will himself to hold back. He wondered if she, too, felt something, anything.

* * *

"Mom, Mom! We won! it was awesome!"

"Oh, honey!...We are so proud of you, guys! Say Hi to Tom!"

"I will mom, I will! Love you!" Harlee hung up the phone, smiling, and returned to the family bash in the back yard. There was music and food, her friends and her cousins, and... him. More than a partner, she hoped, more than a friend.

She slipped into the greenhouse and stopped at the altar. Grandma felt it was fitting to keep it where beautiful things thrived and grew. Harlee knelt on the ground and closed her eyes.

She hears steps on wet earth behind her. "Tom!", she scrambles up and excitement dies on her lips. He hesitates, does not look at her then runs up and squeezes her tight, face to her neck. She wants it-so she lets him hold her like that. She searches his eyes and finds they are sad. He is silent. She knits her eyebrows and reaches up to touch his face.

"What's wrong, Tomas?"

"I am leaving", he offers.

"Come again?"

"I have to leave," he repeats. Her heart stops. She shakes one hand out of his and palms her mouth.

"What do you mean? Where? When?"

"Away. Now."

"This is not happening",her voice shakes.

"Does it mean you care?..."

"As a partner, no. As me..a thousand times yes."

The old door creaks and a woman steps in. Blond, beautiful, flawless.

"It's time", she is angry, direct.

" I love you" he whispers. Her eyes go impossibly wide.

 _This is what it takes? A fucking disaster for you to tell me?_

But on the surface she waits. He is quiet. She feels herself starting to shake, from her knees to her chin.

The door creaks open. This time it's men. Four. Severe.

 _What the hell?_

"Now, Tomas". His mother repeats. They wrench Harlee away from him, ripping her dress in the process. She whimpers. Two hold Tom, the other one-Harlee. This man, fierce and huge, places his hand on her back and shoves her down. Tom fights to get out but can't. He is powerful, strong, but not a match against them.

Harlee's captor fumbles with his belt buckle. " Want me to continue?" he looks at Tomas.

"Leave her alone", Tomas says. That earns him a punch and a bloody face.

"Pity-a tasty seashell like that-I would take her if she wasn't so stiff and whiny. Her mouth, however, doesn't look half bad. Your choice, puppy,-you stay here longer- I fuck her. You go with us quietly-she is saved. " He grabs Harlee's hair and she cries out.

"Stop it".

"I can't hear you! "

"I said I am coming with you!"

"Good boy, now remember - I can always come back if you don't obey."

They drag Tom away but she cannot cry, tears stuck in her throat. She folds herself into the ground.

Miguel finds her like that.


	12. Blood and Satin

Harlee and Stahl, DC, Smithsonian. (Don't know if it has a ballroom but...Plus, art, science-it's all beautiful to me)

His eyes searched for her in gray darkness. They already took in the vast space, walls covered with white billowing fabric from floor to ceiling, in fact, including the ceiling, where intricate patterns of light swirled in some magical dance. Clouds of twinkling lights hung over the floor, lush flower arrangements everywhere. In smoky shadows tuxedos and gowns milled about with laughter and joy, both friend and foe. Tall fluted drinks sparkled in the darkness. She stood at the end of the ballroom, a vision in white, a goddess with huge brown eyes and intricate hair.

Tasting her sugary drink Harlee suddenly felt her spine prickle slowly all the way up to her neck. She recognized the feeling. Stahl...He was gazing at her from afar as if asking permission to approach. Hmm, that's a change. She rolled her eyes and he took that as a go. Striding towards her he remarked,

"I did not know you liked art".

"I did not know you traveled", she countered, ever the smartass.

"Tsk, tsk", he shook his head. "May I ?" Seconds dragged on as she hesitated but then entrusted him with her gloved hand. He kept his touch light as he guided her closer, close enough to breathe the same air. She turned her head to the left to hide her curious eyes-he looked so good, so sharp, felt tightly wound and ...male. His scent tickled her nostrils.

"Can't stay away, can you?", she asked into his shoulder.

He blew at a wisp of her hair,

"How can I? At home and at work, you are there. Not to mention the dreams".

"Great", she said with sarcasm. What else could she say? She couldn't control what went on in his brain.

"No, not great, Harlee. Painful".

She looked up at him. He continued,

"You know, it's best not to feel".

"That's giving up, Robert"

"I know and I didn't. I feel many things, Harlee-frustration, despair. Guilt. No room for anything else".

"We both know it's not true."

"What, despair?"

"No, Stahl, you still act in hope."

"Do you want me to stop?"

Oh, how smooth. "I don't care".

"Go on".

Harlee kept silent. "Very well...". He softly breathed just a sliver shy of her want.

They stood like that for a moment each afraid to do wrong.

"I have to go", he said in a rough voice with an undertone of what she suspected was sadness. He ran his hands down her arms and she watched his frame disappear and suddenly missed him, his touch and unnervingly kind voice.

A few minutes later. "Harlee, you made it! You...you look amazing", a deep voice reached her ears. James pulled her into a hug and she fought the urge to shrink away.

"I will be back...", she smiled and his eyebrows went up. "I promise", she smiled again and walked away. Stairs, passages, chandeliers...She found an alcove with a slick fountain, and leaned back on wet stone . What a strange evening. Her glove scratched her and she shook it out. A small glittering object dropped on her dress. A pearl and ruby welded together. "Is that ..? Oh, God". The pearl from the pin. Her vision succumbed to his fingers, blood dripping and a tear threatened her cheek.


	13. Harlee's Nightmare

Harlee wakes up to the sound of wind and rain mercilessly whipping the windowpanes. She feels cold despite the warm body next to her. It's wrong and it is not enough. She climbs out of bed, grabs her sweats and heads to the closet. A minute later, wrapped in a blanket, she shuts the door to the bathroom and sits in the dry tub, a sleeping pill and a bottle of wine next to her. She hugs her knees and her eyes flutter closed. She is not afraid to wake up James-he is out, content after a warm evening with her. But she cannot sleep. She keeps seeing the subway, her unsuspecting, dumb hand reaching for Stahl's collar to pull out that horrible pin. Glancing sideways she sees his hands idly toying with it. Then conversation gets heated and the next time she looks he is bleeding. Her lungs gasp for air and her vision clouds. She almost misses his intel. Then he is quick to get up and is turning to go. Suddenly, her impatient hand is encircling his cuff with its fingers. She hesitates for a moment then presses in and... she thanks him, his name inadvertently escaping her lips. Taken aback, he regards her, then says something snarky and leaves. She shivers on the smooth plastic seat...

...And wakes up, in bed, buried in white down and glimmering satin, air heavy with threatening rain. Her unbound hair fans over the pillow. She languidly stretches her arms, turns around and icy wetness assaults her. She shoots up to close the window thinking it's rain. But there are no windows. Instead, a useless curtain shifts and somehow lets in an oval of pale yellow light. A strangled sob rocks her body-the satin is spilling red, blood dripping onto the carpet and inching closer and closer intending to creep up her dress. She watches in horror but cannot move, until...

Harlee wakes up gasping. The weather is quiet and she is still next to James. Shaking, she slides her body next to his and his arms encircle her in a gentle, firm way. As if even in sleep, he understands. She doesn't deserve him...but he is here. Her breathing slows down but pupils soldier on till the morning...


	14. Haunted

"Don't be gentle with me, not tonight". James dropped his head on her shoulder and sighed, "Harlee..." "Don't think, just do it!" Hell. If that's where she led him, he would go. He took her back, didn't he? "Fuck everything ", he thought and urgency he did not know he had rose in him. The crap he has been dealing with the past few months has eroded his patience. And her? He had suspected she was wild, but this? So be it. He wrapped his body around hers and buried his face in her neck. He stood like that for a moment to gather his wits. And Harlee was dying of waiting. She's had enough of James' kind caring self, enough to last for a lifetime. She needed another. Fucking Miguel. The things that he made her do, things she'd be ashamed to admit but needed nonetheless.

"Agh...", her breath left her throat as he pushed up her dress. Such a hot, gorgeous thing she was, thick hips, tiny waist... that hair... His hands slid down and took her thong with them. Jesus, she was already wet and open for him. But now he wanted to make her suffer. His strong hands drew a line from her navel up to her breasts and suddenly a slap rang out. She hissed, a burn on her cheek, and smiled at him viciously.

Getting angry, he pushed her down on her knees.

"You want this?"

"You have to ask?"

She was ready and invited him in. She simply loved it, her pain and his hardness. He pushed and her head met the desk behind her. _Mmm, he could be_ _rough after all..._

She suddenly gagged and pulled back. _God damn it, nausea, NOW?...shit_. Harlee shielded her face, stood up and stumbled away. The water ran in the bathroom. No other noises. Then the door opened and

"Gotta go", she said, not looking at him. "Don't follow".

Outside, Harlee hailed a cab.  
"Mt. Sinai ,please, go!"


	15. the Worm in the Storm

He stumbled through the door, pissed off and drunk, disgust at himself breaching the surface.

He felt like a spring worm suffocating in rain. If she were here right now, he would have accepted her slap and wouldn't have stopped her. He deserved it and needed it even. For far too long he has functioned unchecked, moral compass discarded to hell. "Whatever makes you feel better" the therapist said. "I'm pretty sure that's not what you meant". Ah, but it felt so, so good not to care and play with whatever and whoever he pleased.

His latest adventure, Woz's team, had presented a challenge. He yearned to destroy that ridiculous care and their Love strong enough to protect and kill. Faintly, he remembered days that was him. He wasn't always a monster.

It was no small feat to break them, to fuck up their grand Freezer days, jeez...

What now? She got to his innards and yanked pretty hard. And to think he backed up? Since when would he do such a thing? Disgusting. Thank God she didn't touch him or he would have collapsed in a heap.

The suit could no longer cover the garbage.

She stood up when he walked in.


	16. Pity or Mercy?

Mercy.

She stood up when he walked through the door. He looked destroyed. Now her triumph refused to taste sweet.

"So, did you come by to gloat, Harlee? Can't wait to grind me into dust? or does this excite you?", his voice rose and fell as he walked to the bedroom and leaned on the wall.

"You sent me the key, Robert", she said softly and ran a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, for when _you_ are falling apart, not me. So, either come here or get the hell out."

"No conversation?"

"What conversation? A first in 3 months? Astonishing timing... Now listen. I've let you be extremely lucky", he breathed forcefully out. "Don't look so surprised. Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out? Miguel did not leave. But you already knew that, didn't you? Tell me".

The words wouldn't come. _God damn it._ She backed up.

"Right", he advanced. "I could have enjoyed making you squirm and beg me not to inform Christina. But did I?"

 _What the hell?_ Her head is exploding, fear making her numb. She remembers the dirt on her fingers that night, in her hair, her face...Dread crawls up her skin and she hugs herself, tears burning behind her eyes. But she holds them back. She is not weak. Instead, she touches his warm hand and uncurls his fingers. Hers are freezing. An envelope lands. "Read it tomorrow", and she barely asks.


	17. The Ocean

**A/N: this happens right after Harlee wins the upper hand in his office . It's a bit convoluted but I think it can pass :)**

After she left, he tossed in bed half the night. How many times has he told himself not to toy with his vices when stakes were too high? But he again faltered.

Yesterday was a terrible day. Reality finally hit him. After work, he roamed the streets until he got to the docks. Dry spiders of algae lay strewn on the sand. Their smell was...specific but familiar. Like a harshly disciplined child he waited for the storm to subside until his hair turned dusty and lips turned blue then white.

As always, waves offered sweetness and death underneath. He bitterly smiled.

He spit his last mouthful out, amber liquid hitting the light. Two yellow eyes staked him out in the darkness, their stray owner sensing an equally stray heart. Stahl had shoved it so far down that he forgot of it's very existence.

Finally tired, he got up and made his way home. The jolts on the train made him nauseous. Overhead, synthetic white light burned his eyes.

Walking up to his building, he noticed his window was yellow. _Jesus, Harlee,_ _not_ _now,_ he grimaced.

For ten minutes he paced by the fence. He still had resolve. He tossed his jacket over his shoulder and went up.


	18. 5'11, Blond, Slim

**_A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for checking my story out. Please review if you like it, I hope you do!_**

 ** _And I know, I know-my chapters are short. It's because I think in moments and scenes. In tiny things that are memorable._**

He pushed it too far. He knew Christina was wary but after today it was only a matter of time before Harlee found out. She would rip him to shreds. He put his fist through the wall, twice. The pain was sobering but did not quite clear his mind. He eased to the floor and let his elbows rest on his knees. He looked up at the ceiling. What the hell was he doing? He hardly knew anymore. He thought he knew why he started but now, why was he still at it? The game had just changed and he wondered whether or not it was worth it. The choices began unraveling on the landscape that was his mind. His heart grew uneasy. _What heart?_ His abdomen clenched and bile rose in his throat.

 _Enough!_

He washed his face in cold water and winced at the sting of his knuckles. The needling pain was actually pleasant. He needed more. He took off his shirt and turned the water to hot.


	19. A Punch in the Gut

A punch in the gut. He deserved it. Harlee now had the upper hand. Speaking of hands-he remembered her putting something in his yesterday. _The envelope._ He glanced at the table. The paper was gone. _Damn it_! How did he miss that? Time to change the locks, he thought, but almost immediately dismissed the idea. This wasn't yet over, why screw up the fun?

He needed a week to calm himself down and finally was relaxed enough to come to her door. No one answered. The windows were dark and her car was gone. Strange time for vacation. It didn't make any sense. Why would she run? Now? When she was winning?

Worry settled low in his gut. He tried to find her. The newsstand, the coffee shop, subway- she wasn't there. No sign of Christina as well. The last place he checked was the docks. The marina was warm and inviting, fresh breeze ruffling his hair. He remembered meeting her here back then, the rays of the sun overdrying the ground. It was the beginning. The air was still full of oxygen and things between them were taut but not yet torn. And look at the mess now...He actually _threatened_ her back at the diner. What the hell was wrong with him? Didn't he swore to protect her? Now it looked like a blatant lie.

The hearing was set for tomorrow. Baker knew some of the story but not everything. With him, no one ever did. He had something on her as well and would use it if needed.  
His thoughts went back to Harlee. He remembered the stamp on the envelope. St Mary's...

"Hi, sunshine!", he put a cup of coffee on the counter and a huge bundle of tulips. She turned couldn't contain her smile. She would've recognized that voice anywhere. She was always happy to see him, to be caressed by his beautiful eyes. He was kindness itself with her-some threads were just too valuable to be broken.

"What do you need today, Robert?" She quietly asked.

"I need you to look this up, the visits for the last 3 months". He reached over her desk, picked up a business card and a pen and wrote something. Then his long fingers toyed with the parchment and gold cuff link clacked on the granite. She slid her hand over cold stone and plucked out the card. What could she say? She loved his style, so damn smooth and distracting.

She printed the page, it was hot when she gave it to Stahl. "Don't get lost, darling", she mouthed. He put a finger to his lips and gently bit it. _"Oh, I wish you would let me,_ _Robert"_ , she inwardly smiled.


	20. Gone

The numbers crowded his vision. What is this crap? He recognized a run down of blood work. "Why would you..." His eyes slid down the columns and stopped. Everything clicked like a new polished lock. He sat down. "That, Robert, is another result of letting your guard down", he heard his father lecturing him in his mind. "Freaking fuck!" Things were getting worse by the minute and she was gone. She was smart.


	21. Too Late to Bargain

**A/N: Warning-MATURE**

"Was it mine Harlee? Why didn't you tell me?"

"What difference does it make now?"

"Because I need to know if I have to be sorry, sorry for what I have done. I assumed you wanted comfort that night..."

There was silence behind her door.

"I did", she barely whispered so only the air could hear. Then she flung her door open and trained her eyes on his non-existent heart.

"No, Robert, " her voice rang out "you didn't assume. I asked you. I made it perfectly clear", she took a deep breath. "I still want you, now". "And it hurts, Robert, but not in the way I imagined. Back then the pain you gave me was sweet and right. Including that port, you dumb ass. Did you think I was that unrefined? I could have gone to you every single day since that night and let you do what you wanted, what you still need, Stahl. In bed, you are an incredible, sick bastard. Did you know how many times I sat at night missing _your_ mouth, _your_ hands, _your_ touch? I wanted you, whenever and however you wanted. But you did not notice. You went after my daughter. How could you be so stupidly blind? "

She looked at his lips. They were bloodless. He had rolled his bottom one into his mouth and bit with the top. His signature tell...

"Come here ", she said. "Turn around, don't fight". She pulled off his jacket and hung it on the balustrade. Slowly, ever so slowly, she circled her arms around his body like he did around hers that first time. Now he really knew what comfort felt like. All along, he had no idea he had her. And he fucked up.

Harlee turned down his collar and slid her hand underneath. She pulled down the fabric and exposed his neck. She trailed soft wet kisses up to his hairline and pressed her cheek in. She ran her hands thru his hair, gently, feeling every strand. Her lion, lost in his way...He suddenly swung her around and she found herself flush with the wall. His breath dampened her neck. She moaned into his arm and he pressed himself closer, praying it was not for the last time. He tried to catch her mouth with his but she resisted. He slid to his knees like a born sinner and ripped open her robe. _Oh, my God, those breasts, hips, thighs_...She was so slick and wet when his fingers touched her. He wanted to please her so bad his eyes turned silver. He moved lacy fabric aside...and he heard a sob. Wait, was she crying? His eyes flew open, he quickly got up. He held her, and felt something tear roughly inside, his breaths became fast and shallow. Next second, she disengaged and her door clicked shut. He sat on her steps for the rest of the night begging and bargaining with his God...


	22. Lunch Date with Baker

From sheer exhaustion, she slept deeply that night. When the first rays of sunshine began to annoy her eyelids she promised herself she would make today a new day. She would honestly try. And then it would be up to fate to break up the long chain of craziness or add to it, she bitterly smiled.

She needed to see Baker. Some old file Woz asked her to look over before Verco got his hands on it. Marching down the street she kept her eyes on the ground, mind mired in thought. No amount of hitting the bag and standing under a too hot of a shower was able to clear that out.

Baker offered lunch and Harlee agreed for the old times sake. The caf atmosphere was boring, just as white and sterile as the rest of the building. Harlee ordered salad, double the chicken, Baker got hot-n-sour soup. They fell into an easy banter almost forgetting about work.

She sat there, her attention partly on Baker and partly directed inward, mulling over the events of last night. She still felt his smooth skin under her fingertips, his hot mouth on her thigh... All of a sudden, the chicken looked pink and the lettuce seemed wilted.

She pulled out her cell as if it pinged and scrolled through the screen. "Woz needs me back", she explained and stood up, "let's do it again". Baker smiled and within seconds her nose was in her work tablet.

As Harlee turned her head, she noticed Stahl at the counter, looking at her, as cool as ever. Next to him stood a tall, elegantly dressed man. There was something about his erect posture that was ringing all sorts of unsettling bells. Military? No... Her gaze wandered up his back to his shoulders, to the back of his neck, to his hair... He looked so familiar... Harlee's heart stopped. Recognition pierced her gut and she almost doubled over.


	23. The River

She sat on warm round rocks looking out over the river. Construction cranes on the opposite bank swung about their business paying her absolutely no mind. Warm wind tossed her hair around as if it wasn't already messed up. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. A faint smell of wet lichen played with her nose. She could sit here forever, just her and cool water rippling under the sun.

She felt him approach before she heard the crunch of gravel. She hugged her knees and did not turn around. Her former partner halted his progress and stood there, completely at a loss. What could he possibly tell her? What reason was possibly good enough for leaving her back then?

He stood there waiting. She didn't turn around and he left, leaving his disappointment behind.

Harlee thought, "This isn't really happening, right? Another one? First, Stahl-well, he is always there. Then James with his stupid confession. He doesn't even know me!" His words skirted around commitment and she was so not ready right now. Why couldn't he make it easy and just come and go? No family dinners, no burgers, and most of all, no "Love". Brrr...

And now this blast from the past ...She rolled her eyes and smirked.


	24. Serendipity

A few days pass. He looks over the city. It's gray and wet like his trampled-on pride. _Suspended indefinitely_. They took his gun and his badge. Applying to their mercy did not help. Hurling the cardboard box at the wall did not help either.

Now he has to sit through this wonderful dinner. Just a week ago it would have been fine, he could have handled a meal with just Harlee and Baker. But now, with a new player, he is no longer sure.

He sits in the corner, voices and smoke filling the place. Baker's gray form blends in with the shadows and he likes that, he would rather not see her. Better to study the other two as they look at each other with discomfort so raw it bleeds into him. A certain part of him is delighted: imagine a front row seat to what looks way more real than Nava and Harlee. F _ucking perfect._ His gaze slides along the mirrored ceiling and lands on her face. She is mesmerizing and smiling, _at his FUCKING BEST FRIEND!_ Tom's hand moves to cover her fingers and she doesn't yank them away. Stahl's lips rival a desert.

With each chime of the clock, he grows more and more restless. Jealousy, rage wake him up and blackness hardens his groin. The air feels stuffy, his suit an elegant torture device. Harlee's face softens as candlelit pyres burn on the table. Baker drones on, such a sucker for chit chat. Did she really think he could like her? Delusional to no end _..._

Infuriated, Stahl wants to both worship and utterly ruin Harlee for what she is doing right now. He can no longer hear the music, his food has no taste and his desperate brain is looking for some foothold so that he could function.


	25. The Fall

**A/N WA** **RNING:** Potential trigger/drug use. Sexual content. 

"Are you suffocating over there?", Harlee stares at his favorite tie. _It feels like a fucking noose,_ _Harlee_.

 _I can't deal with you right now. I can't continue yesterday,_ she sighs.

 _Your call, darling..._

He leans against the back of his chair, his responses rehearsed, smile a little too bright. Only two at the table notice that.

Finally done with this evening, he gets up and squeezes Tom's shoulder, his grip a little too hard. His teeth flash again and he bids them goodnight. _What an excellent_ _liar._ She cannot help but feel some respect. The glass door gives in to him with the minimum effort and a heavy breath leaves his lungs. Tonight he will let hell overtake him.

PAGE BREAK

She folds herself into Tom's arms under the stairs, old hurts temporarily pushed aside. The bulb overhead has burned out and the darkness is perfect. Everything happens so fast, the desire for truth shrinks the distance. They remember each other's bodies and get the first chance to explore what each of them likes. The apartment door flies open and they almost fall through, mad with regrets. The clothes stay on, their hands impatient, urgent. She takes off his jacket, he picks her up and sits on the edge of the bed. She uncurls herself slightly and rubs against him and he suddenly feels her fit him so well. As for Harlee, he feels sweet and familiar, still beloved somewhere deep.

Her skin is hot and exquisite under his fingers. She relearns to follow his every move. His voice is older and deeper, growls sexy as fuck. _Where the hell have you been?_ it doesn't matter right now.

"I missed you forever"- he is so unbelievably gentle. "And now miss you more...", his thrusts unbearably, sinfully hard.

PAGE BREAK

On the other side of the city, Stahl sits on the beach, completely consumed by his hurt. Half-assed is not him and tonight he falls hard.

The stingy bite of the needle feels remotely familiar. He welcomes it knowing relief will come next. The vein takes cocaine hungrily and he stows the syringe away. His eyes finally close and he can almost feel her underneath him, bringing him gorgeous, radiant pain. He almost hears her whisper the words that can bring him some solace but how can she ever love a sick fuck like him? Soon the poisonous bliss crawls around his body and sweeps away any rational thought. He does not mind, quite the opposite. What does he have to lose now?

PAGE BREAK

 **Stahl's dream.**

She deliciously hurts from the want.

He asks," Look at me, baby, tell me you love it..."

"I love...you."

He feels his universe tilt.

"What did you say?"

"I love _you_ ".

He plunges into her, dizzy, and his Phoenix arises, high high above. His past and his present collide and he loses control. A sure death lifts his soul but his Maker returns it to Earth. With great care, he holds her tight and brings both of them home.

Time fast forwards and he smiles as he watches his son build a sand castle with a tiny dark-haired girl.


	26. Small Comforts

**A/N:** the plot bunnies have left me. I hope you guys like it anyway. Please comment, it lets me know you care :)

It's dark. They walk along the river as city flings jewels into the water. His hands are in his pockets. Harlee's silk shirt ripples in the wind.

"Crossing your t's, Harlee?" he stops.

"You know me so well."

"Christina?" he asks.

"Asleep. Woz and Linda are with her, three crews outside, one on the roof. Only an ant can squeeze through...maybe."

"Alright. So what do you need?"

She faces him, stare fierce. Her palm flies at his face, hard, twice, and continues. His fingers tense in his pockets, but he lets her go on for a while then leans back.

"Are you done?"

"Not quite".

"Ok. Please continue." He closes his eyes and waits.

She breathes fast, and, embarrassed, lowers her fist. "I don't know whether to thank you or beat you".

"You might as well do both".

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" she smirks.

"You know me so well".

"Asshole".

"Harlee, you hurt me", he says with sarcasm _. "_ Bastard, asshole. What next?"

"Sick fuck".

"But you like me", he rolls his bottom lip in and smiles.

"The jury is out on that". A few more steps.

Harlee: "What are you trying to prove anyway? That Miguel is dead? Who the hell cares".

"You. And Lady Justice".

"Oh, and you are it's passionate servant?".

"Or yours. You decide".

"What are you saying?"

"You know what I mean".

" That insecure to try by yourself, Stahl? no games and no blackmail? You are that weak?"

He stops and looks at the water. _So easy to play, darling..._

She stops as well. He moves over. She feels his heartbeat at her back _...a chunk of iron..._

He lifts his hand and runs his finger down her spine agonizingly slowly. She feels each vertebrae bend and shrink away from his hand. She pulls away, he doesn't let her. She can't decide whether she likes it or hates it, his touch, so f...ng different every time. Now it's magic. She decides to calm down and wait. Today, for once, he did her bidding. Such a shitty, insane day...She needs small comforts. She lets her head fall back on his shoulder. He buries his face in her hair and his heart quickens. They stand like this for a while until he sighs and lets go. She smiles to herself as she adjusts her hair. He cannot see it but suspects.

She hops in a cab and he stares, long after it disappears down the street. _Harlee, Harlee, you are so naive..._


	27. The Prowler

**First of all, thank you to everyone who supports me-SusieCues, Pely, Gizem, Deniz, Lika, YullyKo, Madysonjane, Krissa64, and of course, guests-you know who you are. Thank you, guys, you are awesome!**

 **A/N:** So this is a few episodes back when Stahl wants to get a DNA sample from Christina. **Warning: eventual smut.**

He waits until the house is quiet then lets himself in. Effortlessly, thanks to past practice. He makes no sound, quiet as night, and equally black. He walks through to her doorway.

Christina is sleeping, hair splayed over the pillow, lamp on in the room. He studies her for a minute. So innocent, beautiful, young. Just like his son but older. He would never willingly hurt him...or her. _But by accident_? his conscience whispers. His boy is already hurt. How to fix that he does not know but will figure it out, he swears. And soon. Right now, however, he must pay attention. What he is doing is abysmal but he cannot stop, controlling and mad. This poisonous city chafes so irritatingly under his skin, he has to tilt the odds in his favor. Despite his training he sees limited options. He functions on instinct, damaged and lost. Childhood breaches the surface and he shoves it back down. "Not now," he snarls but still reverts to what he knows.

He spies the hairbrush on the table. Christina tosses and turns and he freezes, hand in mid-air. She settles back down, her face to the wall. He stuffs what he needs in the zip-lock, casts a parting glance at the kid and leaves.

Something yanks his attention from down the hallway. He strides over, waits...and his lips flatten shut. He hears a grunt and a moan and imagines them touch. She is not alone, he gets it. How can she be, such a sweet treasure? The springs creak gently but the sound is hurting his ears. Yet again he is at the foot of the stage. "Ahh" _..._ her voice trails from the room. "I want you so much. Harder...". With him, she would not need to beg.

He breathes hard and the memories hit him. He is backstage as a child, stopped dead before mother's doorway. He needs her, his knee skinned on the wooden stairs. He quietly pushes the door and...


	28. No Other Julia

He hears the phone ring in the distance, the sound muffled as if emerging somewhere from under the water. All he really wants is sleep. For once, his house feels warm, for once he doesn't need anyone in his bed to keep him company. His face is buried in pillows and it feels delicious. Sunlight slips through the blinds and plays with his hair. He still hears the ringing. He blindly fishes for it and slits one eye open. Next second, the phone thwacks against the wardrobe and ricochets under the bed. That does not help, damn Lifeproof. Never thought he would curse something for doing it's job. The sound keeps coming and is so annoying it would frustrate the dead. "All right, you mother...", he spits and gets up.

"Gail. To what do I owe this pleasure? Aren't we done? _"_

"If only everything was that simple, Robert. "

He rolls his eyes, "What is it?"

"Your job..."

"What about it? Did I forget something on my desk or are you worried about me?"

"Always so mouthy. My feelings are no longer of your concern and right now I really need you to listen".

"You need me? Like that's a first..."

"Robert...", a irritated note creeps into her voice.

"Please, enlighten me".

"You want your job back?"

"I thought that offer was off the table?"

"The circumstances change".

"I see".

"I won't be another Julia".

"Ah, the plot thickens. If I were to take a guess, you want Bianchi's box. True or false?"

"That's not the only thing. I want Zepeida's case closed. And ADA's ass, too".

"Nuts and greedy. And why do you think I would do that for you?"

"You have a compelling reason. I have your son".


	29. Where is Waldo?

**A/N:** The rest of the story will diverge from canon as we know it so far and will depend on the two following assumptions:

a) Miguel's hair is NOT in Woz's drain, b) Stahl's previous involvement with Cristina is minimal /not as creepy as in the show-it doesn't go beyond asking a few questions and later helping to save her.

And yes, I know it's a Stahlee fanfic and we are all interested in what happens to these two. I am with you on that! But I need a few other players to lead the plot where I would like it to go. Also, this is my first ever fanfic and I am not an action/crime writer so please forgive the plot holes and less than convincing evidence :) etc, etc. Allright, here we go...

* * *

The dirt road comes to an end so he has to run the rest of the way. The air is damp with moisture and he almost slips on the leaves but quickly recovers. "Slow the fuck down", he hisses, "won't be much use with a broken leg". Soon, the clearing comes into view. He skids to a halt and leans over to catch his breath then stretches up and looks around. The crows are menacing overhead. _Stargazing, huh?_ The place is ashambles, wooden benches turned over, moss creeping up the wood. The entire tableu looks like no one has been here for 50 years.

Except for the flies. He hears them buzzing and turns his head. There! A rusted aluminum bin catches his eye. He walks up to it and the smell is horrific. He has hardly smelled worse. He takes out the gloves and the lid is lifted.

* * *

"Harlee, I have something for you".

"Another present? From you? No, thank you."

"Trust me, this one you want. Did you know Miguel broke his leg at Rikers?"

"So?"

"One word-ORIF."

Harlee sways and has to sit down. Her hand has trouble managing the phone.

"Come over", she whispers.

* * *

He showers and dresses into his usual, well, slightly more casual clothes. That's him as of late. Black pants, navy sweater, hair slightly out of place- and he is a poster boy for preppy and straightened out.

He rings Harlee's bell.

She opens the door and he knits his eyebrows. She is wearing black, tight and lacy. _Today of all days_. He has difficulty bringing his mind to the issue at hand.

"Come on in".

He follows her to the kitchen and sits down.

"Scotch, whiskey, what's your poison?"

"You should remember". _She does._ She takes the bottle and pulls the cork out.

"Went all out, Harlee? Just for me?" He gives her that snarky smile. Her palm itches to wipe it off his face but she cocks her head at him coyly and hands him the drink.

"So what have you got for me, _d_ _arling?_ And what the hell happened to your hands?".

"Never mind that, Harlee. You have the box? Where is it?"

"Oh, come on, Stahl, you know how this works. You show me yours and I show you mine." A faint smile dances around her lips.

"You are insufferable, Harlee. Fine. Close your eyes. I won't bite, I promise. Well, not yet". And he watches her with those iridescent eyes of his.

She pretends to do what she's told but peers out from under her lashes. Two screws cool her hand. _Holy shit. So much for taking the bastard's teeth out._

 _"_ Thank you", she sighs.

"Of course. Now I need what I need."

"Stahl, you want anything for the burns?" She changes the subject. " They must hurt".

"Yes...No...What?" he mumbles as his vision clouds. Heaviness creeps over his body and he slumps in the chair.

"Harlee, what the hell have you done?", he whispers, his face contorts and she has to lean close to hear the rest . She gasps and he passes out.


	30. Righting Wrongs

Baker has his kid. Is this really possible? This has gotten beyond out of hand. Christina, Nate, now this? She and her baby simply got lucky. If Stahl hadn't helped, Cristina could have been in a bed next to Nathan or worse, dead. Harlee shudders. She pushes her fingers into her hair and tries to focus. Shaking it out, she presses the speaker button and pulls off her dress.

"Woz, stop the crew. I'll explain on the way".

* * *

She storms through the door like a small hurricane and they all look at her like she is mad. She certainly is, at the rate this is going.

"What the hell, Harlee?"

"Woz, I got what I needed but we've got an issue. Two, actually."

Woz is listening and his glistening eyes almost water for real. _Will this crap ever end?_

"Harlee, we don't owe this idiot nothing. He got us into this mess in the first place".

"That's not exactly true and you know it. Woz, he is just a kid!". She pleads and her heart beats fast and furious.

Woz stares at her.

"The kid, Harlee? That's His kid", he breathes heavily out.

"Woz, Cristina..."

"I know, I know, you don't have to remind me." He closes his eyes for a second and all he can see is death and its stealthy approach. Cristina in the square on a bright, sunny day, innocent, young, sipping her coffee unaware of danger ahead. Nate, bloody, within an inch of his death. And finding his daughter, no Narcan on hand. So much sorrow... The adults, somehow, he has learned how to stand it, but the kids-he will never accept.

"Allright. Call Gail, get time and place."


	31. He Comes to Collect

Stahl is delirious. What the hell did she give him? With alcohol, too. Was she trying to kill him? And he fell for her act like a lovesick idiot, once again. Wait, maybe not alcohol? A faint recollection nudges at him...

He imagines her serving him tea, with milk, to appeal to his strained senses. He is glad she is learning, she is taking her time. Tiny hope stirs inside him and he is bewitched. If he could only elicit the same in her...He wishes he could figure her out but she stays elusive, like quicksand. This Harlee is royal, hard, manipulative, a tease. And he thought he was wicked.

He is half-pleased and half-sad that she acts like she cares. She brings a salve and bandages and tends to his burns. He moves to the couch, just for a minute, he tells himself.

The warmth of the tea tastes sweet, just like the other Harlee he knows. The tender one that caresses so softly and fucks with his mind so deliciously well. The one that is kind and inviting, the one whose touches make him feel safe. He's been wary, so wary of being tied down, but with her it is not the same. He wishes so hard for this Harlee to stay with him, to connect...all he wants is a chance to love her, to show her what only he can. She may not ever let him, may not understand...He tries to sweep these thoughts away but they are heavy, like rocks in tar. And now he feels bitter and jealous and he knows it's not right. He's heard the old adage-something about setting your love free. Set her free...He is so scared. Now that he finally found Her, set her free? But he knows firsthand what his obsession can lead to, what disaster can jealousy bring. God in heaven, he will always remember and live with that guilt. His partner, his wife...How the hell could he do it? And for the first time he is sorry, so sorry for that. The time to pay for his past transgressions is coming, his boy's life and his freedom in question as well...

She is back from somewhere, no longer in black. Now it's a fuzzy gray robe, nothing glamorous but he loves it the same. He wonders what's underneath it but also doesn't care because it's Her. She kneels in front of him and he pulls slightly back. No wonder-the last time she touched him he was hit in the face. She touches his knee and His breath hitches. He covers her hands with his own, his elegant strong fingers finding their way. The burns hurt but the desire to touch her is stronger. He slowly brings her hands to his lips and kisses them gently. The electricity jolts them. She studies his face. Unspoken question hangs in the air between them. _Does either one want this to end?_


	32. What Is Important?

**A/N:** I believe the name of Stahl's son is Justin.

* * *

He feels something cold on his face and startles awake. Woz's wife takes her hand away from his forehead and he sees something a bit foreign to him in her eyes. Kindness, perhaps? He turns his head slightly and sees Cristina staring at him from the windowsill. The light punctures his eyeballs and he lets his lids fall shut. Slowly, his brain tries to inspect the events of last night but is as successful as a boat in molasses. He feels he deserves this.

"Justin?" he asks hoarsely.

"He is safe, they are bringing him home".

 _Safe..._ A sigh of relief escapes him.

* * *

They file through the door irritated and hungry, moving through to the kitchen. Tufo shoots daggers at him. She walks in behind him, then-is he seeing this right?-Woz carries his kid. Justin looks tired but his face lights up, "Dad!" He squirms and is let down and next second he is around Stahl's neck. _What the hell_ _was I thinking, not seeing you for days on end?_ as certain clarity strikes him. Justin's heart is like a bird hammering against his chest. And they just sit there for a while, safe and content.

The voices and laughter escape from the kitchen and he grows uncomfortable. This is not his. He pulls out his phone and dials a cab.

"What are you doing?", her voice asks him from the doorway.

"What does it look like?" He is pissed and does not look at her.

"Do you even have food at your house?" Silence answers her question.

"I thought so. You both need something to eat, then shower and sleep".

He wants to refuse but that would be stupid.

* * *

They eat dinner in silence. What is there to say? Justin gets the first turn in the shower and comes out, lost in Cristina's old pajamas, wet hair plastered to his forehead.

"Come on", Harlee gestures at Stahl, "you can have my bed, I will stay with Cristina". Justin finishes his cookie and milk and runs up with her daughter. Soon he is ensconced in a mound of pillows and is out in minutes.

Stahl heads to the shower. He closes and locks the door then starts to peel off his clothes. Whoever removed his sweater, to them he is grateful. The shirt on him is so sweaty and wrinkled that he frowns. He unbuttons it slowly then gets annoyed and pulls it over his head. He divests himself of everything else and sudden dizziness hits him so hard beads of sweat break out on his forehead. He has to slide down the wall so that his head doesn't meet the tiles. His stomach is flipping and he sits there quietly waiting for nausea to subside. There is a knock on the door, he knows who that is. He opens the lock and cracks the door open. A silent feminine hand sticks through and makes swift grabbing motions. Right now all he feels is hatred but he gathers his clothes nonetheless and shoves them out the door. This and whatever remains of her "gift" she bestowed on him earlier loosen something in him and he is horrified to feel treasonous moisture. He does not remember the last time he cried, he almost forgot what it feels like. He pulls up his knees and rakes his hands through his hair.

Harlee bends down to grab his clothes and stills as she hears him clear his throat. _I_ _s he ...?_ She is so wracked with guilt she wants to come in but she doubts that's what he would have wanted. Instead, she puts her palm to the wall and slowly drags her fingertips on the paint.

The water is pleasantly warm and the towels are fluffy. His body relaxes and he studies the cracks in the ceiling. All sorts of thoughts, all sorts of feelings start swirling in this space of relief. And it hits him: there is no one to hunt if that's what he chooses. This is so foreign, unnerving to him.

He finally shivers and gets out. As he is putting a towel around his hips, his gaze lands on a folded gray robe and he raises his eyebrows. "Who cares...", he pulls it on, pads down the hall and quietly lays on the bed.


	33. Family

**A/N:** Stahl's wife's name is Marta per canon.

* * *

Next morning, he is not that ungrateful. He thanks everyone but omits thanking her.

Three days later, the train ride is calming as the rails hum underneath them. Stahl sits in the corner and watches sun and wind play in his boy's hair.

* * *

Back at the precinct, the air is lighter. Verco is gone to deal with Baker and Woz is smoothing out the rest. Days pass and none of them need the Freezer. It's a darn beautiful thing.

Harlee sits at her desk and taps the wood with her pencil. Tap, tap, tap... Her mind feels like a dryer where the facts bounce around but don't quite change. All that is new is a headache. And she can't push it or the guilt away. During the day her thoughts are more or less rational but at night...

The trees and the light toss spidery lace on her pillow and she tosses and turns.

"I need to fix this", she whispers.

* * *

The cemetery is quiet save for the chirping of birds and raindrops hitting the leaves. The day is in luminous color, prismatic and bright, perfect for living. By the gravestone, he cuts a strong figure: hands in pockets, black suit, white shirt. A study in contrasts. She approaches slowly, heels sinking into moist earth. All she gets is a curt nod as he continues to stand there.

As the day is shut out of the back of black Lincoln they sit far apart. The silence and tension hang heavy between them. What was she going to tell him? She stares out the window until a large brick estate begins rolling past. _So_ t _hat's where he comes from..._ She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. He wasn't kidding about surprises. Soon, the car rolls to a stop and he helps her out.

"I have to go see them, don't leave", he drops and walks on ahead. "And I have to see you", she counters inaudibly. Then her heel scrapes against something and she looks down. Cobblestones. Just lovely. When she finally reaches the entrance the noise and the sight hit her: the house is bursting with people, memorial service too loud. Hmm...A self-guided tour, then. What else can she do?

The hours go by and the house grows quiet. The last car, old, with its equally old owners finally disappears around the bend. Stahl sighs and closes the curtains.

He makes his way through the house looking for her. A dumb part of him wishes to find her in one of the bedrooms but he pushes the thought away.

She is in the study. He watches her for a minute like a cat would a mouse. Frowning, she is trailing her fingers over book spines, knickknacks and glass. He shuts the door and locks it behind him.

"Not afraid to leave fingerprints, Detective?"

"The books. Are they yours? " she turns around.

"Yes, and my mother's. Don't look so surprized".

"That you have a mother?"

"No, and had. But let's get back to you. You must be here for something so tell me".

She is leaning against a bookcase, silent. The time and place are all wrong for this and the words won't leave her mouth.

"Allright then, I will wait". He takes off his jacket and tie and flings them across a chair. Careless. That's a change. Then old leather creaks as he stretches out on the couch, crosses his legs and grabs a newspaper from the side table. She continues her journey around the room in silence. She is usually way more decisive but now... The wind picks up outside and rain starts pelting the windows. Thank God for one thing that is warm in this room-the fire.

"Harlee, I'm falling asleep here". No answer. He throws the newspaper aside and in one fluid motion he is up and in front of her, so close she wants to back up. But she holds her ground. He leans in and she stops breathing but he only reaches around to pick something off the shelf. This is too hard but isn't this what she wanted? She is torn. He, on the other hand, seems determined. He looks at her with his icy blue eyes and with a finger under her chin moves her head to the side and a bit up. He moves her hair aside and she feels his warm breath ghost over the skin of her jaw. He whispers, "What. do. you. want, Harlee?" Ah, a million dollar question.

And he is not finished with her. He runs a gentle finger down her neck to her collarbone. She shivers and...moans. Fuck. This sound-it cuts him to the bone. "Again," she whispers and he licks the side of her neck, his senses ahead of his brain. "I am such an asshole", he thinks as she shifts under his lips and, not quite bold, smoothes her hands down his shirt to his belt. He freezes. She opens the buckle, the button, the zipper and he is out and, oh, her hands, her hot little hands...He grows in proportion to his need for her and it is enormous.

She lifts her head from his shoulder, looks up and he is floating in warm honey. Her lips part and his imagination completely runs away- he sees himself filling her wet beautiful mouth as she willingly kneels to pay her debt. Before, he would have killed for it. But now? He's made his choices and he will be damned if he doesn't abide by them. Besides, he knows himself all too well-if he goes there tonight he will want to keep her here forever. So when she looks at him for permission, he does the only thing possible- stops her.

"If you are here to apologize, don't bother", his voice is cold and flat. He removes her hand from him and presses something cold into it. "It matches the other, take it, and don't come back".

"Pardon?" A look of confusion crosses her face.

"Harlee, you heard me. I have my family back".

What the hell did she do? Her cheeks burst with color. Embarrassment, disappointment are so intense that her eyes are burning. She doesn't let him see that. She steps aside and turns and no further words pass between them. As she walks away he is gritting his teeth.

* * *

When Marta walks in he wishes he wasn't breathing.

"Come here", he whispers.

She is surprised.

"Rob..."

He silences her with his hands on her bottom. He seems different and with new-found hope she cannot help but want him. He pulls off her sweater and drags her bra down and soon she is naked in front of him. He is clothed but cannot wait.

"I missed you", he lies as he pushes inside her. His need is so primal, so raw that he f..cks her like they are not married.

* * *

Two weeks go by filled with mindless f..cking. The furniture, gardens, the cellar- nothing is off limits to him. He fucks her so hard she wonders how she is not broken. Old uneasiness licks at the back of her knees as they rest on his shoulders. He is so full of goodness but also so rough. And she cannot take it. It doesn't take her long to remember his demons and, just like before, she doesn't want them. His sins, his desires- they are too deep and too much for her. So when he pins her down over the couch she knows what he wants. _Let go of me!_ enters his thoughts. He feels like he was yanked out of slumber and it clicks-it's not his thought, it's her  voice. He lets go right away and she scrambles for her clothes. The last thing he hears is the click of the lock.


	34. Obsession

**_A/N:_ Obsession-a relentless occupation of mind. (taken from the script of the show).**

 **Another short chapter.**

 **I am going to call Stahl's wife "M" because Marta just rings wrong for some reason.**

 **Also, I have a request for you all-Stahl needs a new occupation work-wise. He is not returning to FBI. Any suggestions are welcome. I am looking to pick one closest to his character traits, old ones or developing.**

* * *

Obsession. His mind is relentlessly spinning the same scenes, over and over again: the time at the bar when he first saw and heard her in person. Seeing her busted with gravel under her knees, wrists cuffed. The question- and- answer session at the warehouse later that day. And the night of the recital when she truly defied him for the first time. And oh, he got angry, so very very angry and when he gets like that he is not very _nice_. And it only got worse from there -he began to feel an insatiable purely physical need, a current, every time she was near. That feeling-it was so powerful that just a picture or a thought of her was enough to inflame him. His fantasy, never tiring, painstakingly haunted his every step. She was with him when he was alone in his bed, cold and naked, imagining how slick and warm she would be. She was with him in the shower with her firm glistening skin and his taste on her tongue. She hung out at work ,without a doubt, and, simply, on a bench in the park.

He could go on and on ticking off days, weeks of this obsession, but also details. Details that should never belong on an asset. He soon knew what her hair looked like dry, wet and in-between. Her mostly sad smiles, sharp tongue, her cursing and fire in those consuming eyes. He should have known better. And the truth is he _did_. He just didn't want to fight it. For all his desire to control everything he let this thing happen, let it go on, unchecked, until it almost destroyed both of them. Selfish bastard. Why couldn't he choose someone else? Someone safe? Anyone, anywhere ? She herself pointed out the girl at the coffee shop to him but by then it was too late. And now, having pushed her away, he has to deal with it...but this mental churning- it is not _dealing._

To make matters worse, the nights are not completely his either. He dreams of her every night, while his wife is laying beside him. M is so pale and thin and so god-damn fragile it's nauseating. But he is calm and respectful, at least on the surface-it's not her fault, afterall. So although he dreams, his sleep is not restful and his eyes are so red that he looks like an addict. And he is-he is addicted to her.

* * *

M is not dense. This time the change in him is akin to gentle, guarded caution, and she understands that something needs to be said.


	35. The Offer

**A/N:** Needed characters for plot so here they are:

Henry-Stahl's stepfather

Helen-Stahl's deceased mother.

Henry is making Stahl an offer he can't refuse.

* * *

Stahl is leaning against his desk, arms folded in front of him. He is only half-listening. The other part of his brain is wondering how many fibers the carpet is losing with Henry's incessant pacing.

"You understand this is not for me?" Henry stops and stares at Stahl pointedly like a professor lecturing a wayward student.

"Henry, you know as well as I do that I haven't touched this in a million years".

"Pff, like that would ever stop you! Nonsense. Don't tell me you are still considering keeping that job of yours! I thought you got better. Don't disappoint me. Justin needs you. Marta needs you...Or do you want to see the whole thing disappear? I don't think Helen would have appreciated that".

"Naturally, you would bring mother into this".

"I lov..."

"I know, I know. You _loved_ my mother."

Henry ignores the sarcasm in his voice:

"What do you want me to do then? Leave it to your sister? That's like sending it to hell in a hand basket!"

"Don't be so melodramatic, Henry".

"Robert, do you not want to do it because it's coming from me and not your mother? You yourself know that's what she would've wanted. And it's time for you to give up blaming me for your father".

Stahl slams the door at that.

* * *

Therapist's office.

"Well, that was mature, Robert".

"I don't know what you want me to do, Sylvia."

"The question is what do _you_ want to do? Are you going to push it away or accept it? You wanted to work on control, Robert, here's your opportunity".

He shakes his head at her minutely, gets up from the chair and slides onto the couch.


	36. Broken Silence

**A/N: Well, I still don't know what business Stahl took over so there will be just a reference. Because I just want to put the story out there. Hope you like!**

* * *

"Harlee, please go see him. He doesn't deserve to be in that house alone tonight. Take my car".

THREE HOURS EARLIER:

The city is on the doorstep of autumn. On the streets, wind cuts to the bone but, thank God, it is warm inside. Stone walls are silent and solid and conversations are muffled. He can almost feel a buzz of excitement in the air. Hit or miss, he has to admit he had fun. He doesn't need alcohol-to him, caviar is lovely on it's own. Slowly, he rolls the little spheres against the roof of his mouth and, one by one, pops them with a flick of his tongue. The salty liquid tastes like the ocean. Slightly dazed from everything, he wanders the halls.

"Rob!" His wife catches up to him. "How are you?"

His look says it all : _You really have to ask?_

"That good?" She sighs and reaches out to get a speck off his lapel and fix his hair. For some reason, he lets her.

Behind him, familiar voice grabs his attention. He turns and sees Tomas making his way through a group of chattering suits.

"Hey, Rob, how is it going? I thought you wouldn't be caught dead taking care of this?"

When Stahl doesn't smile Marta pointedly widens her eyes and Tom catches himself.

"I am so sorry, I am an idiot. I've heard of your mom. I am terribly sorry".

Stahl nods. Marta steps closer and winds an arm around his waist. He closes his eyes for a moment. What wouldn't he give for this night to end.

There is a faint swishing sound and he looks up. God bloody damn it.

The first thing he sees are her eyes, they are like warm coals underneath very thick lashes. She blinks and he realizes that she looks even more beautiful than the last time he saw her. But eye contact is a bitch so he lowers his gaze and it glides over her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone and suddenly drops way way down- her silk dress is very very low cut. Before he starts contemplating what her skin would taste like he yanks his eyes upward and catches Harlee staring at Marta's rounded belly. Fuck.

Tomas just noticed and is smiling, too. "Congratulations! About time, you two!" "Congratulations!" Harlee's voice is kind but formal and she gives them a brilliant smile.

"Thank you so much...", they don't get to hear the rest of what Marta is saying. Her voice is suddenly muffled by the scraping of chairs and din of multiple voices rising up. MC is doing a great job at exciting the crowd:

" ..and I am thrilled to announce that as of half an hour ago we have raised the target amount, and now we can reveal the angel investor- Tomas Alderton!"

"What the fuck?" runs through Robert's mind.


	37. Slipping

Tom goes to speak with the board. Harlee needs some fresh air.

Outside, she pulls the hairpins out. The tendrils fall in a curtain around her face. She looks up and raindrops make her look like she is crying. _As if_ -there is enough water on the ground. The flower beds are spilling mud soup on the marble and the hem of her dress mops it up with gusto. She picks it up and holds on to the rail but her stiletto slips anyway. "Damn it!" she mutters just as a strong hand catches her at the elbow. The touch is familiar and familiar goose bumps flare up.

"Harlee..."

"Don't you touch me", she spits out. He makes sure she is steady and releases her hand. The wind is merciless, whipping her and her hair around and sending clumps of leaves into her dress. He takes off his jacket but she puts her hand up.

"How the hell did you manage to drag Tom into this? and I am with him, God damn it!"

"Harlee, it's not what you th...

"Your lying sucks, Robert. You must be out of practice." She narrows her beautiful eyes.

He opens his mouth to say something but suddenly she realizes her hand is somehow in his again and he is rubbing her knuckles.

"Stop it", she pulls her hand out and her voice is shaking, " Your wife is pregnant, you-you..."

"Harlee, I can fix this..."

She's had enough of him and the fucking leaves in her hair.

"Fix this!" She flips him a finger, and, heels like weapons in hand, braves the stairs before he can stop her.


	38. Irony

WHERE THINGS THRIVE AND GROW

* * *

Marta: Excuse me, Harlee?"

She turns around and recognizes Stahl's wife. This ought to be interesting. "Yes?"

M: "May I have a word with you, please?"

The redhead looks almost harmless but there is a certain sharpness about her eyes.

H: "Of course. lead the way", she politely smiles.

They make their way down the stairs, walk a few turns and end up in a winter garden.

The stone bench is cool and uncomfortable through her dress. Marta does not seem to mind. She turns to Harlee.

"Do you love him?"

Harlee's eyebrows shoot up.

"Excuse me?"

"Robert. Do you love him?"

Harlee's mouth goes dry. She says nothing.

"Whether you do or not, I think he loves you. He has been saying your name in his sleep for months."

Harlee makes to get up but Marta stops her.

"Wait". Marta lays her hand on her belly and looks up.

"Robert is not the father, Harlee, he has known for a while. Go see him, please-it's not fair for him to be alone tonight."


	39. Confession, part 1

**A/N: second, longer draft of this chapter. Currently working on third.**

* * *

He throws the door open. _Surprise._ She stands there, eyes burning, lips wet and apart. He makes a split-second decision.

"In or out, Harlee? In or out? But I should warn you-you cross that threshold, there is no telling what may happen tonight".

She just stands there, frozen.

"Ok, let me help you make up your mind". He pulls her in through the doorway and she has to put her hands out to stop herself from falling right into him. There is a breathless jolt of wanting when their lower bodies collide. And high between her thighs, begins to beat an ache so strong she could double over. He is not far behind-he would take her right then and there, hard, against the silk-covered wall, if he hadn't learned any patience over the last few months. But he did. So he asks the pink elephant question:

"Why are you here? The last time wasn't enough?"

"You are an ass", she tries to pull away but he will be damned if he lets her go tonight.

"I am sorry. Thank you for coming to see me."

"You should thank your wife".

His eyebrows shoot up. Harlee 1, FBI zero.

"What? You are joking, right?"

"No, not at all. She gave me a full run-down, too".

"Yes, she is a good storyteller".

"No doubt".

"So-your new precious intel-does it make everything honkey-dorey between us?"

"Afraid not".

"Not even a tiniest little bit?" He holds his thumb and forefinger together to indicate a speck of dust.

"Yeah, maybe exactly that much."

And now he is crumbling bit by bit in front of her and she...fuck, she is tough. He releases her, walks to the couch and sinks into it, elbows on knees, legs apart. He looks thoughtful.

"You know, Harlee, it doesn't have to be so hard. It's just you and me now. The jobs, deals, lies, it's all done, all of it. I'm not saying forget about it, just move past. Are you willing to give that to me? For one night?"

"The past, it's hard to let go".

"For one night? It's not" and he stretches a hand towards her. She doesn't move.

"Are you afraid?"

"You know that provokes me" and, of course, she steps closer and offers her hand.

"That's why I said it", he pulls her in, gently, the rest of the way. His fingers land at the dip of her collarbone and travel all the way down her front. She is waiting.

"It's a beautiful dress but... it's too tight."

He bends down to where the silk is still wet from the mud. His palm dips underneath it and glides upward until it can't anymore. He looks at her for permission and her quickening breath grants it. That's when his other hand lands on her thigh and she hears a miserable cry of ripping fabric. She looks down and now her dress is not only low-cut, it has acquired a slit, mile-high.

Still looking up, he slides his hands through it to circle her thighs and suddenly she is kneeling above him, legs apart, gasping as she tries to stop her descent with her arms.

"Any better now?" he asks.

She answers him by bringing his hands onto her shoulders and pushing down, down until she comes to rest on his lap. Oh, God...It feels so good, so hot, that she wants to lean her forehead into him and let everything go, just for one night. But can she? Except...

"Much", she unguardedly sighes. _Fuuuuuck, that was fast_.

He lets one hand rest on her bare thigh and gently flicks her nose with the other.

"You are my catnip, did you know that?"

"That's a nice way of putting it, Stahl. Cats usually don't lose their jobs while eating it."

"Well, if I use any terms that are stronger you may turn around and run. And that's not what I want tonight."

"And what do you want, Robert?"

"That's a dangerous question." He gives her his trademark smile.

"You are talking to a cop."

"Who is also a woman. A woman I ..."

"A woman who wants to know why the hell she came all the way here."

"I thought it was for my pretty eyes."

"You are an idiot."

"But a happy one", and he totally grins like an imbecile.

Then he leans back and finds her eyes.

"Harlee, all jokes aside, I wish there was something good between us". He looks down, "well, besides that". She tries to keep herself from smiling but can't help it and wiggles her butt. The movement makes her sink into him deeper and she starts to feel so many good things all at once.

"Ok, I will try to keep the witty banter aside so please listen. I know I fucked up, a lot" he continues, "I tried to control the wrong things so much that I forgot about my life and almost ruined yours. I am so sorry, Harlee". There is clarity in his eyes. "I should have stopped but it all felt like I lost my mind. The job-it was almost impossible in the first place but having you there made it that much harder. I lied to you when I said you were just an "asset". I began to want you more and more each time I saw you and it drove me nuts that you wouldn't have me. It drove me nuts when you slept with someone else. You, with that fucking phone, do you know what it felt like? Like being stabbed with a blunt knife, over and over again. Sometimes, I was so angry at you that I wanted to fuck you into the ground but I never, ever, would have done it against your will. I am so sorry for insisting that you accept me. Right now I just wish you could forgive me". And then it's like he wakes up: "No, never mind what I want. What about you, Harlee?"

"What about me?"

"What do _you_ want?"

 _Her turn to confess, isn't it?_ She knows what she wants but it's hard to admit all at once. So she starts at the beginning.

"Fuck me".

It's like gasoline to his fire, so direct a command.

"Harlee..."

She looks him square in the eye and repeats,

"Robert, just fuck me". And he ignites.


	40. Confession part 2

**Thank you, SusieCues, PiscesChickk, SleepyGirl and katiac-you have inspired me!**  
 **And thank you everyone who is reading this story, you know who you are!**  
 **I hope this floats our little fandom's boat :)**

 **A/N:**

 **This is a TENTATIVE ending to this story. I did not want to remove it for the folks who have read and liked the whole thing. However, my plot bunnies returned and the alternate ending is in the works. I finished plotting it out today and hopefully will soon be able to post. The story is called Damage. I promise some surprises. Please PM me if anything looks confusing.**

* * *

Thank God both of them want the same thing at the same time.

Her fingertips land at his collar and work at the buttons, down and fast. She wants more-more of _him_ to make up for the days she had none. The shirt comes off and underneath he is perfectly solid, the planes of his abdomen, ribs pale and hard. He is holding himself back letting her explore but her lips touch him and his control quickly erodes.

He smoothes his palms up her arms catching the straps on the way down.

"I've been waiting for this," he whispers and devotedly kisses her nipple then drags his tongue to envelope the other. When he leans back the air is cool on her skin. He smoothes his palms up her ribs and squeezes gently. She stops breathing, he kneads and she cannot contain a moan. She wants to abandon his lap and kneel but he does not let her.

 _Screw patience, screw everything._ There is a whirlwind of pressure and, suddenly, he is above her. She opens her knees to let him in.

And then his hands are all over her and his fingers...oh Jesus...

Her nerve endings are screaming for him and she tells him where she wants him. There is a soft clink of metal and sound of whoosh and his belt thumps on the carpet. She reaches beneath and he...he has been ready since she walked in.

"Robert, do...do what you need to me".

He exhales.

"That's insane."

"I am asking".

Yes, she is asking, **asking** that of him ... and yes, he will submit to his Queen.

With every heartbeat that passes she wants to scream, to will him inside her. But, right now, he is stronger, if only a few notches more. Torment is his element, too, to tease and fracture until both of them are broken.

The weeks of hunger, frustration, rejection, all of it comes pouring forth.

At first, she grows angry and wants to repay him for what he has done to her. But he holds her so close, as if she is the most precious thing in the world, and she doesn't know anything anymore. He is so good to her, answers every need and desire, whatever, how ever she wants. She wants petals-he gives her roses, she wants pain-he gives her sweet hurt. Irrevocably, they are here and the gifts keep coming, hers to him, his to her...

* * *

As they are falling asleep she curls up against him and the way he wraps himself around her couldn't be any closer. His hand finds the edge of the throw on the couch and he drags it down and over to protect _her._ This solace is so strong, so vital that, expectedly, fear whispers at them of waking up and finding all of this gone.

* * *

He is the unlucky one. He feels he is drowning as tiny bubbles swirl above. He sits up with a jolt and his throat is burning. Something is digging into his palm. He already knows. He sends the earrings flying across the carpet and is about to flop back down when he hears her voice.

"Got you scared?"

"No, it is fucking delightful to wake up alone".

"Cranky. Good to know you have feelings." There is a bit of an edge to her voice.

Damn it, he is not dealing with this from the floor. He gets up and ushers her up the stairs, finds his bed and falls into it first.

She lays down beside him and she is smiling for he no longer terrifies her. In fact, she likes to see him a bit burned. But she is also merciful and doesn't let him suffer too long. She pecks at his cheek and reaches to play with his hair.

"Harlee, cut it out."

"Don't talk".

Her lips travel down his body and he grunts,

"Har..."

"I said don't talk" and a pillow bumps into him.

He gives up and lets her pull at his waistband. She kisses along the strip of blond hair between his hips and finds him enraged down below. Thankfully, she is all bliss and softness and knows just the way of soothing his hurt...

* * *

Afterwards, he holds her like he is afraid to lose her.

"Harlee...",his voice breaks.

"What? I'll be the death of you?" Her eyes are dancing and she buries her face in his shoulder.

"How about my life?" He feels her smile against him and he knows he got so damn lucky to live through his perfect storm.


End file.
